this happy madness
by harkinian
Summary: Twenty years old & working with the twins, Hermione Granger drinks an untested love-fate potion, hoping it'll set her on the path to romantic bliss. What'll happen as a result? A complicated courtship, plus plenty of craziness, of course! FW/HG. A/N: On indefinite hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Hello everyone! It's been ages since I've published anything, but I'm going to give this fun little story a go. I wrote this first chapter early this year, maybe in March or April, and now that I have had some time to rewrite it, I figured I'd publish it.

Enjoy!

-Harkinian

Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership over any of the characters in the Harry Potter verse. They belong to the brilliant J.K. Rowling. I am merely playing in her sandbox.

* * *

Hermione Granger was frustrated; a sort of _I could kill somebody right now_ frustrated. Her brown hair tied in a knot at the nape of her neck, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, she wore a fierce expression of annoyance, seemingly directed at a pink potion bubbling happily, almost mockingly, at its creator.

_Why is she so annoyed_, an ignorant bystander would ask. The love potion, a Weasley Twins creation tentatively titled "Copa del Amor," which Hermione had been working on for the past three hours, looked exactly how she had wanted it to look, with its lovely pink color, smooth texture, and gleaming, pearl-like sheen. But these properties of the potion, brewed to perfection, were not what bothered her.

No, what aggravated Hermione Granger so very much were the alluring smells emanating from the Drink of Love. With each breath she took, she could identify the smell of new parchment and freshly mowed grass, but the third smell to which she supposedly was attracted was one Hermione could not identify. It had a hint of maple syrup and caramel and was positively mouthwatering, but she couldn't tell precisely to what or to whom it belonged. _Definitely not Ron_, she thought, since they were broken up for over a year now. Yet the smell was so familiar...

Hermione sighed in frustration. She was certain that after existing for twenty years on this planet, she knew herself well enough to know to whom she was attracted. Apparently not. And the fact that a love potion knew her better than herself irritated Hermione to the extreme.

While she tapped her wand on the black cauldron and pondered what the mysterious smell might be, George Weasley, his red hair sticking up in all directions, strolled into the back room and to the counter she was standing at.

"Mademoiselle Granger! How dost thou fare on this fine spring evening?" George asked. He snickered at her hair, fluffed up by the potion's fumes, and the frazzled expression upon her face.

"Just lovely, Sir George. Thanks for asking," Hermione replied, annoyed at his amusement.

"And how's the sweet drink of love coming along?"

"Well, I think."

"Brilliant. When do you suspect it'll be ready for action?"

"It's done now."

"Most excellent! We must put this new batch out as soon as possible!"

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed, the damned mystery scent making her light-headed. Suddenly, inspiration hit her. Could it be George? It was possible, but she would need to be a bit closer...

"Fair lady, what troubles you?" George looked at her with concern as she leaned into him. She took a long sniff. _Nope,_ she thought. _Too bad_. She liked George.

"It's nothing, George...just this damned smell...Never mind. Anyway, how was business this afternoon?"

George looked at her, puzzled, before starting to prod the Copa del Amor with his wand. "Er, fine. Busy as usual. Verity and I were a tad overwhelmed, but we handled it all right. I just wish Fred would get that Paris stuff done faster."

_Ah yes_, Hermione remembered. The twins had expanded their business throughout Great Britain, and they figured now was the time to move into continental Europe. So Fred was away seeking a location in magical Paris to start a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"When did he say he'd be back?" Hermione asked, curious as to when George's other half would return, for nobody had infuriated her like Fred often did, with his casual flirtations and hilarious comments, for a few days now. "I asked him about it before he left, but he didn't give me a clear answer."

"In the next couple of days, I suspect. Anyway, thanks for doing all this so quickly, 'Mione." George waved his hand at the potion. "You know we normally would have asked our witches and wizards at the Warehouse to brew our potions, but since this particular one is so dangerous, we had no choice but to assign the task to the most brilliant, most talented witch-"

"Save it, George. I've heard it all before," Hermione said with a smile.

George grinned. "Alright, alright. Oh, by the way, mum told me to remind you that dinner's at the Burrow tonight, in an hour. Don't be late like last time-" George gave Hermione a pointed look, "-Or she'll kick our arses." He smiled a toothy smile at her before he waltzed into the front of the store to close the shop.

Suddenly giddy over the prospect of visiting her second family for the first time in two weeks, and a bit drunk off the Juice's fumes, Hermione rammed the lid on to the cauldron a little too hard. She exited through the back of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and apparated back to her small, but practical, flat in Muggle London. Once home, she pulled off her magenta work robes, which had "Hermione Granger" stitched into them in gold. The love potion's scents still lingered on the robes, and while Hermione changed into a comfortable cardigan and jeans, her mind swirled with ideas as to what the smell was. It wasn't George, but could it be another Weasley? Yes, it might be one of the Weasley brothers. She couldn't put her finger on whom, but while she flooed to the Burrow, she determined to figure it out, for Hermione Granger, the most brilliant witch of her class, was not one to sit and let a mystery alone.

When she arrived at her destination, she was bombarded by the usual sights and scents the Burrow offered. She had barely stepped out of the fire place, her mouth just starting to water, when she was engulfed in a tight hug.

"Hermione!" Ginny Weasley squealed into her ear.

"Ginny!" she exclaimed when they broke apart. "Merlin, you're back!"

Ginny, her brown eyes gleaming with pleasure, grinned at her best friend. "I know! I arrived an hour ago from Glasgow."

"And your last game? How was it?" Hermione inquired.

"The Badgers nearly beat us, but I caught the snitch. Seven games in a row! Dean was so proud."

"And what's that?" Hermione held the golden medal that hung around Ginny's neck closer to her face for observation.

"My 'Most Valuable Player' medal, of course!" Ginny beamed.

Hermione offered her congratulations and high-fived the red head before turning to face the rest of the Burrow's inhabitants and guests.

There in the cozy, and cramped, living room sat a majority of the people Hermione loved most in the world. Mr. Weasley, Bill, and Fleur waved at her from the couch, Fleur balancing Victoire on her lap. Remus and Tonks, who were sitting on a love seat with little Teddy, his hair a royal purple, in between them, grinned and greeted her. Ron, slouched over the kitchen counter holding a bottle of butterbeer in his hands, gave Hermione a big hug despite his morose expression.

"Bad day?" Hermione asked.

"Lavender broke up with me," Ron answered, elongating his face with exaggerated sorrow. "Again."

Hermione grimaced. "Oooh…well, have you considered looking elsewhere?"

"Life, that sodding bastard, won't let me," Ron replied.

Shaking her head, Hermione leaned in to hug her best friend again before turning to Charlie who was sitting beside his younger brother.

"Hermione."

"Charlie."

"How are you?"

"Marvelous. Back from Romania, I see. How are the dragons?"

"Scary as usual." Charlie smiled before hugging her. Hermione took this chance to sniff him inconspicuously. _Nope, not Charlie._

"The twins treating you alright?" Charlie asked.

"Surprisingly, yes."

"If they give you much trouble, let me know." Charlie winked at her. Hermione scoffed. The twins were sometimes a handful, but they weren't anything Hermione couldn't handle.

"Thanks for your concern, Charlie, but I don't need it," Hermione said, crossing her arms.

"Don't be too sure about that, 'Mione. You never know what we've got up our sleeves," George called from the kitchen. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Where's Harry?" she asked Ron, but it was Charlie who answered.

"He's busy tonight. I saw him at the Ministry earlier. He said there was some Auror business to sort out with Shacklebolt."

"Ah...right." Hermione smiled, remembering Harry telling her last week that Shacklebolt was promoting him to assistant-Head Auror, but before this could happen, confirmation hearings had to be held to judge Harry's character, competence, and potential. Harry had fretted over the prospect of sitting in front of the Wizengamot, but Hermione was certain Harry would get the position without having to break a sweat.

* * *

The Burrow's inhabitants and their guests chatted a bit before dinner was served, and once everybody was seated at the dining table, chaos as usual reigned. Glasses clinked, cutlery clanked, chunks of bread flew, and peas were smeared everywhere; still, Hermione loved every moment of it. Noticeably absent from the action was Fred, the usual instigator of all the trouble, but George, accompanied by Ron and Teddy, was doing just fine. What Hermione loved most about these gatherings, however, were the interesting anecdotes shared amongst those sitting at the table.

"Last weekend we captured the last English Death Eater, in Sussex! I nearly ruined the whole thing when I tripped on the shag rug, but we pulled it off. Good fun, eh Remus?"

"Yes, it was quite a sight to behold," Remus said dryly.

"Who? Me or the Death Eater cowering behind the antique vase?"

"Both."

"...Mum, you'll never guess what happened last night."

"Victoire started reading! She just took ze book out of my hands and read. She eez getting very smart! Just like her papa!"

"Oh lovely, dears! Be sure to have her read to me before you leave!"

"...So I grabbed him by the collar, and this was not an easy feat, mind you, 'cuz this bloke was absolutely massive, and then I pulled him right up close and socked him in the nose!"

"Wow, Ron. You punched someone. Congratulations. You win at life. No doubt Fortune is smiling upon you, about to shower you in galleons and happy juice."

"George, this was serious business! This guy was a beater! A beater! Huge-ass arms and, I swear, a chest as large as Hagrid's. Yet I, just a lanky keeper, managed to hit him square in the face!"

"Really Ron! Just in the face? I've had a row with Julian Punkard before, and believe me, it was not his _f__ace_ I hit."

"Do tell me _where _you hit him, sis."

"You sure you want to know, George?"

"Of course, dear sister. Please divulge the dirty details!"

"Alright. I hit him square in the bludgers."

"'Bludgers'? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that term..."

"You know, his male parts. His nuts. His balls-"

"Ginevra Weasley! What _are_ you talking about?"

"Just giving a lesson on human anatomy, mum."

Disregarding most of her dining table manners, Hermione snorted and laughed at the funny stories everyone shared, and related her own tales about working with the Weasleys, the most interesting of them being the ones concerning the love triangle between George, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet.

"...Just as Fred and I were about to close the shop, Alicia stormed in and demanded I tell her where George was. So I said, 'He's in the flat, taking a shower.' And just as she was about to run up the stairs, there was George, bewildered, his hair _dripping_, with an equally wet Angelina right behind him!"

"No!"

"Merlin's pants! What happened?"

"Fred and I looked at each other, and we tried to run before everything blew up, but not before we saw the look on George's face..." The Weasley siblings and Hermione burst into laughter.

"I'll bet it was priceless."

"I'd pay to have seen it!"

"George, how could you?"

"Hermione! It's not bloody funny! We had a huge fight after that! _And_ it still hurts to use the bathroom."

Everybody laughed even harder at George's suffering, as George's ears grew redder and redder. _Poor George_, Hermione thought. She knew he wasn't dealing with the love triangle well, since George, ever the sensitive one, was afraid to deny either one of the witches for fear of breaking their hearts. And shockingly, Alicia hadn't run from him after learning of his hook-up with Angelina. It only made her work harder to win him over. So now George was pretty much stuck in between a rock and a hard place.

_Just like a Muggle soap opera,_ she thought, a wry smile on her face. _Love makes people do strange things._

* * *

The next morning, Hermione entered the back room of WWW to bottle the love potion she had spent the past week brewing. She made sure to tone the enticing scents down so she wouldn't be distracted. She worked with caution, taking care in measuring out the proper amounts of the pink potion to be placed in small, heart shaped bottles because she knew the Weasleys expected nothing but perfection from the brainy witch. Halfway through bottling the fourth potion, a flustered George Weasley walked into the room, levitating a cauldron of bubbling clear potion, being accosted by a lovesick Alicia Spinnet.

"Alicia, I know you're upset, it's just, rem-"

"George, it's alright! I'm not mad at you! Just go out with me on Friday, okay?"

George looked pleadingly at Hermione, but Hermione merely shrugged from where she stood. She was as confused as he was. Alicia normally was very calm and collected, yet here she was, begging George to go on a date with her.

"Um, well, maybe we should talk about this after work..." He attempted to levitate his cauldron onto the table space near Hermione, but then Alicia grabbed the front of his bright robes, crumpling the silk material, and the clear potion sloshed out of its cauldron and into the pink love potion seated in front of Hermione.

A huge wave of irritation swept over Hermione; she had been laboring over the potion for seven days, and the ingredients were rare, too. Now she had to start over if the Weasleys were to put out any more of the popular, but difficult to brew, Copa del Amor.

Her frown turned into a smirk though, as she watched Alicia pull George into a passionate kiss. Hermione had always been a sucker for a good romance, and this tryst between George and Alicia belonged right in a Lacey and Amoria love story. Alicia, a few seconds later, abruptly broke off the kiss with him and ran out of the room, leaving a very bewildered George behind.

"Sorry about that," George said, his face blushing redder than his hair.

Hermione just shook her head. "People are really strange, aren't they?"

"I can't deny it." George looked at the love potion, which had turned from pale pink to rose red. "Oh, Merlin. I ruined the potion, didn't I?"

"Probably. What were you levitating anyway?"

"A fate potion. If somebody feels as though his life is on the wrong track, he merely has to drink a tiny bit of the fate potion, and he'd be back on the path his life is supposed to lead."

"That sounds complex. Did you find the recipe in the book I brought back from Egypt?"

"Yeah. We had been brewing it for months."

"Well, what do you reckon the blend of the two would do?"

"Fate and love potions aren't too different, at least not in terms of composition." George walked next to Hermione and peered into the cauldron.

"Maybe the purposes of both potions will combine to create a new potion with a combined purpose," Hermione speculated.

"What do mean?"

"Well, perhaps a drinker would be set on his right path for love."

"In that case, I wouldn't mind taking a sip. I'd really like to get this whole Alicia and Angelina deal sorted out."

"We should probably make sure this is safe to consume before drinking it."

"Good idea."

Hermione performed a few standard spells on the concoction, but was still uncertain. And she didn't want anybody digesting anything she wasn't completely assured was safe. So Hermione flooed Luna Lovegood who, being a naturalist, had an extensive knowledge about potions' ingredients' properties.

Luna came over quickly, dressed in orange robes that had little stars sewn into the hems, a look reminiscent of Dumbledore's. Her blond hair was dripping wet, and the streams of water that rolled onto her robes created light blue streaks on the fabric.

"Hello, Hermione. Hello, George."

"Hey, Luna. Nice robes." George stared wide-eyed at her unique apparel.

"Yes, they're quite nice, aren't they? Daddy charmed them for me." Luna fingered her collar absentmindedly. "You said you had a potion's dilemma, Hermione?"

"Yeah, we do." She indicated the red potion in the cauldron and explained what had happened and what she and George thought of it. Luna took out her wand and performed several complex wand movements over it.

"Thanks for coming over so soon, Luna. I know you must be busy," Hermione said as she watched Luna cast her spells.

"I have a flexible schedule," Luna said simply.

A brief while later, Luna announced the potion was safe to consume. "The chemical properties are meshing quite nicely, and there are no traces of toxicity, as far as I can tell. I would be a bit cautious about the papyrus leaves mixed with the peppermint, because together they're known to cause confusion, but otherwise it's drinkable. Then again, the concentration of wrackspurts is shockingly heavy in the room, and you may be as confused by them as the herb mixture-"

Hermione heard a soft tapping at the window and was relieved to have an excuse not to listen to Luna's ramblings. She opened the lattice-window to let in the twins' handsome barn owl. She detached the envelope from its outstretched legs. It was a letter from Fred that read:

_Dearest brother George and darling Hermione,_

_I know you two have been missing my charismatic presence and thoroughly enjoyable company these past few days, so I'll be returning from Paris this afternoon via the International Floo network to mend your hearts, which have, of course, been shattered into a million plus one pieces due to my absence. I also purchased you both a few gifts I thought you would enjoy, so I expect, upon my arrival home, loads of hugs and kisses – but only from Hermione._

_I wish I were kidding about the kissing thing, Hermione, but I've honestly been dying to engage in a good snogging session with you for a while now._

_Please don't kill me when I get back,_

_Fred_

Shaking her head at the ridiculous but entertaining letter, Hermione turned her attention back to George, who had already scooped up a vial of the fate-love potion.

"Cheers."

He tilted the vial into his open mouth. Hermione and Luna watched for any sudden reactions, but they could see no physical changes. George, however, was wearing a look of great confusion on his face.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked worriedly. She glanced at Luna who didn't look too concerned. "Do you have a clear sense of who you're supposed to be with, George?"

"Er, no, not really. If anything, I feel even more confused than before!"

"What's the potion taste like?" Luna asked.

"Like blueberries and chocolate."

"Oh, my favorite waffle toppings."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at Luna's off-handed comment, and George shrugged his shoulders before starting to scoop the rest of the red potion into empty vials.

"You can't possibly be thinking of selling those, George. The potion's untested," Hermione said, eying George's actions warily.

"I'm not. We just ought to store this for the time being. I sure as hell am not leaving it lying around." A few drops of the potion fell onto the table, and it evaporated upon making contact. Luna looked briefly at the spot, before telling them she needed to leave.

"Thank you for your help, Luna," Hermione said, looking appreciatively at her eccentric friend.

"It was no problem. Anytime you need any help, just let me know," Luna replied. She gave the two WWW workers a small wave before stepping into the fireplace and flooing away.

George had reached the bottom of the cauldron. He filled a vial with potion, but before corking the vial, he turned to Hermione, a charming smile on his face.

"Drink from my cup, fair maiden," he insisted.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"I don't see any reason why not."

"Well, if you can look past the fact that this potion is untested and potentially fatal-"

"Why so pessimistic, Hermione? You yourself checked it. Luna said it was safe. But it's your choice, of course, so if you'd prefer not to drink it, I'd understand."

Hermione bit her lip. If this potion were what she and George thought it to be, a potion that would set her on the right track in love, she wouldn't mind taking it. After all, her love life at the present was pitifully nonexistent, and her romantic liaisons of the past were no better. _This potion would really stir up drama in my life,_ she considered, _but then again, has there ever been a moment in my life not loaded with drama, if not mine than somebody else's?_ No, craziness had always been a part of her world, and adding just a bit more would not make _that_ much of a difference in her life. Probably.

"Be a Gryffindor, 'Mione!" George said in a mocking tone.

Rolling her eyes at the redhead, she remembered that mysterious smell, a smell now wafting freely from the uncorked vial in George's hand. Hermione figured that if she could not determine what that scent was, maybe Fate could help out. With that last thought, she took the vial from George and drank the potion.

* * *

Reviews appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thank you everyone for reading and adding this story to their story alerts and favorites. I am glad you're all enjoying it.

And I'd like especially to thank **EmmaRose58**, **Teleliniel**, **Wizards-Pupil**, **Crazy-Obsessed-Writer**, and **annewed** for their kind reviews!

I now present to you a chapter detailing the nature of Fred and Hermione's relationship. I hope you have fun reading it.

-Harkinian

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is the god and creator of these wonderful characters, locations, etc. I am simply borrowing them for my own entertainment.

* * *

As the love-fate potion rolled down her throat, Hermione tasted oranges and dark chocolate. _What a weird combination,_ she thought while a sudden warmth started to spread within her. This pleasant feeling was almost immediately replaced, however, with a startling bout of confusion.

She shook her head in an attempt to clear her fogged mind and smiled at an on-looking George. "I hope this was worth it," she said.

"Me too." George pulled out his pocket watch, a large 'W' engraved into the gold, and checked the time. "Dragon balls, it's almost ten! I'd better go to the Warehouse. Gotta check on how the new batch of Skiving Snack Boxes is coming along. Do you mind running the front with Verity?"

"Of course not. I'll get to it."

"Thanks. See ya, 'Mione." George winked before exiting through the back door, his bright robes fluttering behind him.

* * *

Hermione tended the shop for the rest of Monday morning. As she rang up sales on the antique, brass register, she noticed that the male customers did more than stare at her with wide eyes and mutter to their buddies, "That's Hermione Granger, isn't it?" No, several men even had the audacity to flirt with her. Hermione wondered in the back of her mind whether the potion had any role in this new attention.

In the early afternoon, as the cafés and restaurants of Diagon Alley filled, the retail shops emptied, and the typical weekday lull fell upon the Weasleys' shop. Hermione sat cross-legged on the front counter, a sandwich in one hand and a book in the other. While she read, she intermittently eyed the front door, ready to spring off the counter and into a more professional position should one of the Weasley twins saunter in. The two entrepreneurs were generally lax in regards to their staff's actions during break time, but they disliked their employees acting unprofessionally during store hours. And no matter how weak the trickle of customers was at the time, Hermione was not yet on break and thus not allowed to sit on the counter top as she was doing.

Stuffing the remaining bits of her sandwich into her mouth, Hermione nearly choked when the door opened, and a handsome man with dark hair, light eyes, and a Grecian physique walked in. She hopped off the counter and gathered herself enough to attempt a poised standing position behind the register.

Tall, Dark, and Handsome walked over to a wide-eyed Verity and asked her something. Hermione watched as Verity giggled and replied, her pale cheeks turning a shade of pink that rivaled the highlights in her platinum blond hair. It was then Hermione's turn to blush when the stranger strutted over to her.

"Mademoiselle, I have finally found you!" he spoke with a charming French accent.

"O-oh? Me? Wh-what?" stuttered Hermione. She mentally berated herself for stuttering. _It is just a man_, for Merlin's sake. _Just a very,_ very_ good-looking man._

"I have been traveling far and wide, you see, in search of the most beautiful woman in the world! And when I arrived in London, I simply asked a random man on the street, and he directed me here. To you." He flashed a dazzling smile.

"R-really? No way. You d-definitely have the wrong person...You can't p-possibly be t-talking about m-me..." Hermione tucked a stray hair behind her ear, her heart pounding. Could this be an effect of the potion she had drunk? She sent a look of bewilderment toward Verity, who put her hand over her heart and sighed.

"No, I'm quite certain it's you, ma belle..." He placed a kiss on Hermione's hand and looked up at her. Hermione recognized instantly the sparkle in those blue eyes.

"FRED WEASLEY!" she roared and punched him in the arm. Fred roared with laughter as he transformed back into his normal, lean and red-haired self.

"Oh dear Hermione, you should have seen your face. Priceless, eh, Verity?" Fred continued to chuckle as he dodged Hermione's next burst of violence and bounded up the stairs that led to the twins' flat. But not before he gave Hermione a suggestive wink and a smirk.

Hermione, meanwhile, was admonishing herself for losing her cool over a mere _man_ and for thinking that the damned potion could ever present her with Prince Charming. Fate had never been on her side, at least not in terms of her romantic endeavors. She was probably doomed to a solitary life of parting kisses and tearful goodbyes. Or surrounded by cats. _Definitely cats._

"The boss got you good, didn't he?" Verity called from behind a shelf.

"No, no. Never. He didn't _get _me. Not any part of me." Hermione shook her head for emphasis. "No, he did not."

Verity chuckled. "Keep telling yourself that, Hermione. And remember, the first step to falling in love - denial."

* * *

That evening, while Hermione sat on her favorite chintz chair in her flat, intent on finishing _Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science _by Argo Pyrites before dinner, she heard a soft tapping at the window. She glanced up and recognized the well-groomed owl that belonged to internationally renowned Quidditch player, and sometimes model, Cormac McLaggen. In its talons was a large, wrapped package similar to the dozen other gifts McLaggen had sent to Hermione after the two had "reconnected" at the Minister's Ball last autumn. Hermione always sent these gifts back, wrapped and unused, because she knew McLaggen only sent her these trinkets to gain access to her bed.

Unwrapping the package and tossing Cormac's attached note aside, Hermione found that this time the Quidditch player had sent her a carton of fresh strawberries and a small, crystal fountain that spouted molten chocolate. Hermione dipped a single strawberry into the chocolate, telling herself it was not a crime to enjoy the smell. Nonetheless, the moment the combined scents of the chocolate on the strawberry wafted up to her olfactory bulb, she started a mental debate and weighed the pros and cons of eating the strawberries. If she ate them, she'd be accepting McLaggen's gift. And the food was probably laced with a love potion. Then again, if she didn't eat them, she'd be missing out on her favorite food. _But I won't be giving in to McLaggen,_ she told her grumbling stomach. That was the important part.

Hermione snapped out of her reverie when she heard a knock on the door. She placed the strawberry down and opened the door to find Fred Weasley looking comical with bags stuffed with food levitating behind his head.

"Good evening, pretty lady," he said.

"Oh," Hermione said with disdain. "It's you."

"Care to have dinner with me?" Fred asked.

Hermione put her hands on her hips, still cross at him for his performance that afternoon. "Want to give me a reason why?"

"Well, George is in Hogsmeade, and I feel lonely," he replied.

"Not good enough," Hermione retorted.

"Hmph." He crossed his arms. "If I were in my right mind, I would turn around and march away at your rudeness. But, seeing as I'm completely insane, I still insist you let me in. Besides, I've got your _presents_." Fred said the last sentence in a singsong voice and, with a flick of his wand, conjured a powder blue bag.

Hermione reached for it, but Fred snatched it away before she could touch it.

"Not until you let me in," he said.

Hermione glared at him for a second before giving in. "Fine," she said. She opened her door wide, and a smirking Fred bounded into her flat, his grocery bags nearly knocking her over.

Hermione huffed in indignation before hastening over to Fred who had snatched up a strawberry and swiped it through the chocolate fountain. His lips touched the chocolate before Hermione was able to grab his arm.

"Stop! That strawberry is not safe!"

Fred cocked a curious eyebrow at her before setting the fruit on the table. "Is that so? Or are you just depriving me of delicious strawberries because you want them all to yourself?" He glanced at her with a knowing look in his eyes.

"I'm looking out for you, Fred." With narrowed eyes, Hermione cast a _specialis revelio_ spell on the items. Nothing happened.

Fred grinned, wiped the chocolate off his lips, and licked his chocolate-covered finger in a manner men reserved for other activities. Hermione sent him a death glare so powerful that even the bravest of aurors would have faltered, but it had no effect whatsoever on the snarky twin. Fred's amusement was further indulged when he saw the note Cormac had sent along with the package.

"What's this?" he asked. Holding the card above his head so a flushing Hermione could not snatch it away, he started to read it aloud.

"I bring these strawberries to my lips, knowing your kisses are infinitely more sweeter, but they-" Hermione made another attempt to snatch the card from him. "-they will have to be my substitute for now." Fred guffawed, wiping invisible tears from his eyes. "Merlin, 'Mione! Here I thought you were an innocent and pure young witch, when you've been having such a sordid affair behind our backs all along!"

Hermione thumped him in the arm. "There is no 'sordid affair,' Fred Weasley, and if there ever was one, it most definitely would _not_ be with a rat like Cormac McLaggen."

"Then why did he send you this note?" Fred narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion, his mouth curved into a smirk.

With a great deal of exasperation, Hermione explained to him the situation between Cormac and herself and managed to tone down Fred's amusement by asking him to whom the author of the note sounded similar.

"A drunk Ron? Drunk Charlie?"

"No, idiot, like _you_ this afternoon!"

"You didn't like my Prince Charming?"

"For what it was worth...no."

* * *

When Fred had appeased the brunette with an apology and they finally started cooking dinner, they cooked without magic "to spice things up,"insisted Fred.

"How did you learn to cook this way?" a curious Hermione asked.

Fred grinned. "Muggle cookbooks. Lee gave me one for my birthday as a prank a few years ago, and I've been hooked ever since. It's quite like potions, really, except with less explosions...and less Snape."

Hermione chuckled. "And did your Muggle cookbooks say you needed celery and raspberry jam for penne pasta?"

"You can never know what you may or may not need with cooking."

"Fred, this is way too much food." Hermione stared at the great assortment of foodstuffs laid out on her kitchen counter, an amount large enough to cook a meal to feed the entire Weasley family.

"Just keep the extra food then."

"Why? I don't need all of it."

"Unless you plan on eating eggs the rest of your life, keep it," Fred said as he gestured to her open, and nearly empty, fridge. _Oh right,_ Hermione thought_. _She hadn't had a chance to stock up on groceries for the week yet. With embarrassment she glanced at Fred, and the genuine look of concern he gave her startled Hermione into reluctantly agreeing to keep the food.

_This is…different_, Hermione thought as she thanked Fred for the food and returned to slicing tomatoes. Hermione Granger had never agreed with the twin so easily before.

Their brief exchange inflicted awkwardness onto their previously comfortable silence, and Hermione tried to break it by asking how Fred's Parisian trip went.

"Smoothly, I think," Fred said, as he shook salt into a pot. "I'm really excited for the expansion. The European market is _hot_ right now."

"And you've got a good site for the shop, right?"

"Yup. Right in the heart of Wizarding Paris. It's a brilliant location—Ow!" Fred yanked his hand away from the handle of the boiling pot of water and rubbed it gingerly.

"Burned?" Hermione inquired. "I have ointment for that."

"Nope, just a little red. And if I had been burned, I have a spell for that. I am a wizard, you know. A _very _competent one." Fred thrust out his chest and tossed back his hair, a move that would have been much more effective if his hair wasn't cut in the short style he had adopted to "look more like a respectable businessman."

Hermione scooped the diced tomatoes into a bowl. "So when do you plan on opening the new store?"

"As soon as possible, unless you have a different suggestion as to when we should."

"No, I agree. You should open it up as soon as possible. I mean, in a few months the children will be out of school, and you want to be established before the prime season, of course."

"Exactly." Fred dunked a handful of pasta into the pot of water. "You really are turning out to be quite the Santa's little helper, aren't you?"

"And who's Santa? You or George?"

"What kind of question is that?" Fred asked. "You know I am, of course! I'm the one who makes the kids laugh. Then again, I don't have the potbelly, like George does. Nor do I have the beard." Fred frowned as though it were a grave disappointment to not have a fluffy, white beard.

Hermione pursed her lips. "George doesn't have a beard or a potbelly."

"How do you know? That boy is skilled at Disillusionment charms. How else do you think we were able to do all the stuff we did back at Hogwarts?"

"I know for a _fact_ that George is in prime and fit form."

"Alright, _Doctor Granger_. But how are you so certain? Did you get the opportunity to check firsthand?" Fred asked with a wink.

Hermione spluttered as she cut into an onion. "No! I saw it on his health records, which _you_ told me to go over last month." Peeved, Hermione chopped a slice of the onion with unnecessary force, before continuing. "…And how could you accuse me of 'checking firsthand'? You know I'm not like that!"

Fred sighed. "Relax, Hermione! I was making a joke! You really need to learn the art of joking, darling."

"I can make jokes!"

"But you can't _take_ them."

"Yeah, I can! Here, hit me with a joke."

"We're cooking. How am I supposed to hit you with a joke?"

"Just tell me a joke!"

"Telling a joke to you is not the same as playing a joke on you."

"Whatever! Just…make me laugh."

"Are you sure? I don't want to offend your delicate sensibilities."

"Yes! Give me a joke. I can take it."

"…Can it be a dirty joke?"

"Tell me a joke, Fred."

"Hmm…" Fred said as he poured olive oil into a black skillet. "Okay. Two guys are sitting on a bar stool. One starts to insult the other one. He screams, '_I slept with your mother!_' The bar gets quiet as everyone listens to see what the other guy will do. The first again yells, '_I SLEPT WITH YOUR MOTHER!_' The other says, '_Go home dad, you're drunk_.'"

Hermione smiled. "That one was…alright."

"'Alright'? It's hilarious!"

"Well, give me another one."

"Fine. One day in the forest on an island, three wizards were hiking along a trail when all of a sudden, a huge pack of centaurs attacked them and knocked them out.

"When they woke up, they were brought to the leader of the tribe. The chief centaur told them, 'I will spare all of your lives if you find ten of one type of fruit and bring them back to me.'

"So after a while the first wizard returned with ten apples. The chief centaur ordered him to stick all ten of them up his ass—shush, Hermione—without showing any expressions on his face. He had a little bit of trouble with the first one and started crying while trying to put the next one in. So, he was killed.

"The next wizard came in with ten grapes. The chief centaur soon ordered him to do the same as the first wizard. After the ninth grape, the man burst out laughing for no apparent reason and was also killed.

"The first two wizards met in the afterlife, and the first one asked the second, 'Why did you start laughing? You only needed one more grape, and you'd have gotten away!'

"The second wizard answered, still laughing. 'I couldn't help it,' he said. 'I saw the third guy walking in with pineapples!'"

With a triumphant grin, Fred turned towards Hermione, fully expecting her face lit up with laughter. His grin dropped, though, when he noticed her back turned away from him and her shoulders trembling.

"'Mione? Are you alright?" Fred asked.

When Hermione turned around, Fred realized she was shaking with silent laughter. "Oh, dear Merlin," she said as she wiped a tear from her eye. "I dunno what's up with me, if it's chopping these onions or what, but I never laughed until I cried at a _joke_ before!"

Fred smirked. "So I gave you your first time, eh?"

Hermione laughed. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Fred."

* * *

When at last they finished cooking, they set up the crystal wizard's chess set Bill and Fleur bought Hermione for her birthday and played a round of chess while they ate. Hermione fared well at the start of the game, until she found out the hard way that Fred was even more skilled at wizard's chess than Ron.

"Why do you have to win at everything?" Hermione asked as she watched his queen bludgeon her knight.

Fred smiled. "Because I'm a natural winner. Why else?"

"No one's a natural winner."

"I guess I'm the sole exception."

"Could your ego get any bigger? Wait, don't answer that question."

Laughing, Fred leaned back in his chair, placing his empty plate on the table. "Tell me, what did I miss while I was away?"

"Not much. It was a very busy week, to be sure, though. And George's lady drama continued."

"What happened?"

"Alicia cornered him and snogged him."

"She's always been a feisty one," Fred said. "What else?"

"Well, I finished the new batch of Copa del Amor, but before I could bottle it properly, it was ruined by Alicia and George's snogging."

"How would snogging ruin a love potion?" Fred asked, stroking an imaginary beard. "Really, I'd like to know."

Hermione explained how the fate potion mixed with the love potion and then told him what she and George had speculated about the purpose of the new potion.

"Is this what you're talking about?" Fred pulled out of his pocket a vial full of the red potion. "Hmm...Putting the drinker on his proper path to love? Sounds like a long shot," he wondered. "Still, still..." He shook the vial gently and stared at its swirling contents, his mind deep in thought.

Hermione took this time to discreetly appreciate Fred's intelligence. She was ashamed to admit that she once considered the twins' magic "flashy" and "of no use to anyone," but upon deeper examination of Fred and George's inventions, she realized their magic really was quite advanced. Sure, neither Weasley had applied himself to his studies back at Hogwarts, but the twins still were among the brightest people Hermione had ever met. Fred's thought processes were comparable to those of Hermione's favorite literary character, Sherlock Holmes. Fred's brain ticked at lightning-quick speeds, deducing problems as to why certain enchantments or potions didn't work and coming up with solutions, which sometimes worked (and sometimes didn't), just as fast. He was, however, prone to letting his imagination get the better of him, and this was when George, the more pragmatic of the two, had to pull his brother back down to earth.

When Fred snapped out his reverie, he asked whether either Hermione or George had consumed any of the potion.

"Yes, we did," Hermione said, self-consciousness about her actions suddenly creeping into her. She shifted her gaze from Fred's face to the remains of her knight on the chessboard.

Fred tittered. "I don't believe it! Miss Goodie-Two-Shoes drank a new, risky, and potentially poisonous concoction? No way!"

"It's safe," Hermione insisted. "I had Luna Lovegood check it out. Besides, it was worth a shot! My love life is so miserable that this potion couldn't possibly damage it further."

Fred offered her a pointed look. "As a good experimenter, make sure you note anything significant that happens to you. Well, your love life."

"Yes, sir," Hermione muttered.

They chatted a bit more about George's predicament and made a bet regarding whom George would pick in the end, if such a decision needed to be made.

"Twenty galleons says it'll be Angelina, easy."

"I wouldn't be so quick to say that, Fred. Alicia is determined. She knows what she wants out of life, and she would go to great lengths to get those things."

"Trust me, Hermione, I know these people better than anyone, and I still say Angelina takes the prize."

"Well, to make things more interesting, I say a dark horse candidate steals his heart in the end."

"That's very Gryffindor of you, Hermione. And you've got yourself a bet." Fred grinned and extended a hand. Hermione shook it with mock-solemnity before cracking a smile herself.

Bet having been made, the two proceeded to put away the chessboard and clear the dishes. Once they finished, Fred presented Hermione with the gifts he had bought her in Paris.

"For your hard work these past several months, I give to you a token of my appreciation," he said with a flourish.

Hermione picked up the blue bag. "Thanks, Fred. Really, you shouldn't have."

"A kiss for my efforts, then?" Fred leaned in for peck, but Hermione pulled away.

"Not after what you put me through this afternoon. Verity will be laughing at me for at least another week."

"Well, do I ever get to snog you?" He started to pout, and Hermione laughed at his ridiculous expression.

"I'll have to think about it," she said. She wrapped her arms around his waist in a friendly hug.

"Good night, Fred," she said.

"'Night, love." He winked as he pulled out of their embrace and doffed an invisible hat as he exited her flat.

After Fred left, Hermione repackaged Cormac's gift, before eagerly pulling out the contents of the blue bag. They were books, and the sight of them made Hermione happy. To say that she loved reading was an understatement.

What pleased the bookworm even more were that the books were used, which meant they were old, and Hermione enjoyed old books more than anyone could think possible. They even had personalized inscriptions in them that signified from and to whom each book was given. Hermione took her time reading them.

_Charms for a Happier Soul_

Dear Alfie,

May this book bring you great joy and many laughs, as it did for me when I was your age.

Love,

Grandpa Henrie

_Making Love: Amortentia, or the Most Dangerous Potion in the World_

My belle Angelique,

The moment you smiled at me, I knew you were the one.

Yours forever, Sydney

_Herbert and Duchennes's Guide to Yesteryear_

Dear Jacques,

Please don't be offended, but you really ought to brush up on your ancient runes. Familiarize yourself with the knowledgeable writings of Herbert and Duchenne; their theories are quite fascinating, and you're sure to learn a lot.

Sincerely,

Genevieve

Hermione smiled, her stomach fluttering with excitement at finally getting to read _Guide to Yesteryear_. She then examined the last book Fred purchased for her. It was entitled _A Love for Infinity_, a work of romance authors Lacey and Amoria, which on its cover depicted a beautiful, swooning maiden, caught in a deep embrace with a handsome young man who looked _very _familiar. Upon closer observation, Hermione realized that the man looked exactly like how Fred had looked that afternoon at the shop.

Hermione shook her head, bemused, and opened the book to find an inscription.

Sweetest Hermione,

Your glorious beauty and endless wit charm me so.

I find my eyes can wander no farther from your face than Ron can from the sight of sweet potatoes.

I hope when you read this book you consider me,

please, great goddess, show some sympathy.

You're playing with my heart,

and from you I never wish to part.

With the greatest love, devotion, and all things romantic,

Fred Weasley

P.S. This took me only thirty seconds to write. Aren't you proud of me?

Hermione scoffed at his words but smiled nonetheless. Fred was unlike anybody else in her life; he somehow infuriated her as often as he entertained her. But for his kind words and thoughtful gifts, she resolved to send him a note of gratitude.

Dear Fred,

Flattered though I may be by your devotion and loyalty,

your hand I must decline.

The fates above told me that your love

is as bloated as the body of a swine.

Yours truly,

Hermione Granger

P.S. How'd you know I wanted _Herbert and Duchenne's Guide to Yesteryear? _I'd been looking for a copy for ages! Thanks for that and for the rest of the books as well.

P.P.S. Yes, I'm proud of you, Fred. But I only took twenty seconds to compose mine.

P.P.P.S. But a romance novel? Really?

* * *

Reviews always welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Author's Note: In honor of Fred and George's birthday, here's a new chapter! Thanks for reading, and much thanks to **Wizards-Pupil, Crazy-Obsessed-Writer52, DrakeFan077****, ****Teleliniel, Annonymous Amethyst****,**** xXSarcasmAndCakeXx, **and** TwinzLover **for reviewing.

-Harkinian

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is the god and creator of these wonderful characters, locations, etc. I am simply borrowing them for my own entertainment.

* * *

Fred Weasley woke up to a loud thumping noise coming from the room next to his. He groaned and turned onto his side, willing the _thump, thump_ away. He was blessed with no such luck.

He threw back his covers, got out of bed, and stalked into his brother's room, which was in a total state of disarray. Clothes were strewn about the space, as well as several pairs of shoes, a few experimental products the twins had given up on developing, tattered old books, and, for some reason, lots of forks. George himself was standing in front of his now empty closet.

"George, what in Merlin's good name are you doing? It's seven in the morning!"

"Spring cleaning, mate. I advise you do the same."

Fred crossed his arms. "My dear brother, have you suffered a head injury lately? Because the last time I checked, you never cleaned anything. Ever. At all."

George hurled a boot at Fred's head. Fred veered to the side, but his morning grogginess hindered him from completely dodging the object. The boot hit his left shoulder, and Fred grunted in surprise at the pain.

"Don't hurt me, Gred! That was unnecessary."

"Then don't ridicule my compulsions, Forge!"

"I can't help if your compulsions are of the housemaid kind and thus totally worthy of ridicule-" Fred managed to dodge the blue book thrown at his head this time. He guffawed as more objects, thrown by an irritated George, came his way. The onslaught of flying objects ceased when they heard a soft sound from the closet. It sounded like a cross between a meow and a squeak.

"Fred..." George darted his eyes from his closet to his twin. "Did you just hear what I just heard?"

"Yes, I did. What do you reckon that is? It sounded like a cat or a mouse. A ca-mouse…or a mo-at."

A loud scratching started up, and the mew-squeaks turned into hostile growls. George backed away from his closet and into a pile of books. "Should we should summon Creature Control?" he asked.

"No! We could lose our business license for harboring an unregistered creature!" Fred exclaimed, panicked at the thought of this mystery beast destroying their business. "C'mon, it doesn't sound that dangerous. Let's have a look, shall we?"

With that, Fred approached the empty space that was George's closet, George following close behind him. Fred peeked into the darkness of the closet and found a pair of narrowed, neon green eyes staring at him.

"Merlin's socks, what is that?" George asked quietly.

"Those are eyes, brother," Fred replied flatly. As his own blue ones adjusted to the shadows he saw the creature's form: catlike, with a smooshed, pudgy face and a thin, long, and hairless tail. It was not a pretty sight (actually, it was revolting), but he was now pretty certain the beast was not dangerous. If it had wanted to attack them, it would have done so already. George, on the other hand, did not share his confidence.

"We _should_ contact Creature Control. It looks evil."

"I told you, George, that's bad for the shop!"

"Then what do we do? Stand here and wait for it to come out and eat us?"

Fred snapped his fingers. "I know what we'll do. We'll get Hermione!"

"What? What good would Hermione do for us?"

"She could help us find a way to get rid of it." With that, Fred sent Hermione a plea for help through his patronus.

Although disgruntled at having a silver fox pounce on and yell at her in Fred's voice so early in the morning, Hermione flooed over to the twins' flat. The Weasleys were good bosses, and they had helped her out of trouble on more than one occasion. It would be ungrateful of her not to return the favor.

However, clad in her dressing gown and standing in front of George's closet, she could not figure out what the _thing_ was.

"And this cat-mouse just showed up randomly in your closet?" she asked.

"I swear, I had no idea it was living in there!" George answered. "It never disturbed me before..."

Hermione sighed and waved her wand a few more times in vain, hoping her identification spells would reveal what the thing was. Unfortunately, the spells did no more than make the thing hiss menacingly.

She sighed in frustration, hands on her hips. "Should we lure it out? We can't stand here all day looking at it, you know, " Hermione commented. Fred grunted in agreement.

"Alright, let's bait it. I've got a catnip lying around here somewhere..." Hermione raised an eyebrow at Fred.

"Catnip? Really?"

"I'm just chockfull of surprises, aren't I, Miss Granger?"

"I've known you long enough, Fred, that nothing you do could surprise me," Hermione said, smiling.

Her smile quickly dissolved into a frown when the catnip plan failed to work. This little monster in the closet was proving to be quite the adversary for the clever witch and the two entrepreneurial wizards.

"Damn this!" George finally cried out in frustration. "I've got work to do. Let's just pull it out!" Before Fred and Hermione could do anything more than exchange startled looks, George marched into his closet and reached for the creature. It hissed and pounced on the offending Weasley, scratching George on the fore arm before slinking further back into the darkness.

George passed out as blood started to trickle from the wound. Pale-faced and panicked, Fred transferred his brother onto his bed and attempted to staunch the bleeding with a healing spell and a small tub of blue ointment. Meanwhile, for the second time in a week, Hermione sent a message to the one person whom she knew would be able to identify the beast: Luna Lovegood.

Luna showed up as soon as Hermione relayed her message. The blond's long locks were pulled into an elegant twist, her golden dress robes of the finest quality and inappropriate for identifying the possibly homicidal monster in George's closet.

The naturalist was all business, though, as she stepped into the closet and faced down the pair of narrowed green eyes. Hermione and Fred sat for several moments at George's bedside, watching.

About a minute after Luna entered the closet, she walked out again, carrying the ugly creature in her arms.

"Merlin's beard, what is that thing?" Fred asked, eying the monster's long, gray hair with distaste.

"It's a Kneazelat. Part kneazle, part rat," the blond answered, scratching the beast's floppy ears and inciting weird sounding purrs from it.

"It's not dangerous, is it? Could it be carrying an infectious disease? It scratched George!" Hermione cried anxiously. Luna shifted her gaze onto the unconscious red haired man on the bed. Fred's healing spell had not worked in closing the thin, red wound, and the blue ointment had had merely stemmed the flow of blood.

"The wound may become infected if not treated properly," Luna answered.

"Balls," Fred said. "Should we transport him to St. Mungo's?" He squeezed his brother's arm, eyeing George's unmoving form nervously.

"Don't worry. I can heal him myself," Luna said. She produced her wand and tapped it twice against the head of the now calm Kneazelat. It disappeared, leaving long gray hairs clinging to her otherwise immaculate dress robes. Luna didn't seem to mind. She took out a small snuff bottle from her purse and held it up to George's nose.

"He needs to be conscious for this spell to work." When George finally opened his eyes, Luna sent a stream of white light at the long scratch on his arm. The scratch almost immediately knit itself together, the skin regaining its original texture.

George looked down at his healed arm. "Gee, thanks, Luna." He smiled as both Fred and Hermione let out sighs of relief.

"What spell was that?" Fred asked, intrigued.

"Animum servare," Luna said. "It's very useful."

"I'll keep it in mind the next time George does something stupid," Hermione said. "And by the way, George, promise me you'll never go touching things which ought not be touched!" Hermione shouted.

George rolled his eyes. "Yes, Hermione. I promise from this day forward to never, ever inappropriately touch things." He earned himself a punch to the arm from the bushy haired witch and a loud laugh from his twin.

"Careful, woman, I was just scratched there, by a...blimey, what _was_ that thing? And where did it go?" George looked around the room with a wary gaze.

"A Kneazelat," Luna answered nonchalantly. "And it's gone now. I transported it to a safe location. I will have a colleague of mine take it to a suitable living environment, so rest assured no harm will come to it."

George grumbled at bit ("No harm will come to it? Bah!"), as both Fred and Hermione expressed their genuine gratitude towards Luna. Fred was especially apologetic for the condition of her golden gown now covered with gray Kneazelat hairs.

"Oh, it's fine," Luna said, using her wand to remove the long, coarse hairs. "But I'm afraid I can't stay any longer. I was preparing to attend a wedding, actually. I should go now to finish my preparations."

"Right," George said. "Thank you so very much, Luna. Really. If you hadn't come I probably would've, well, not _died _but something more along the lines of being so severely damaged that-"

"What my brother is trying to say," Fred interrupted, "is that he is very grateful his knight-and-shining armor came to save him, and will now shut up and let aforementioned knight leave." He elbowed George in the ribs. "Because she's busy."

"See you all around," Luna said. With a wave, she walked out of the bedroom to floo away.

Hermione patted George on the arm before standing to leave herself.

"It's been an eventful morning, gentlemen. I think I'll go now," she said.

Fred stood as well, following her to the fire place. "Thanks for coming when I called. And so early in the morning, too."

Hermione shrugged. "You've both helped me out before. I figured I'd return the favor, you know?"

"Ah yes, I still remember that thing with Ron and the sink as though it happened just yesterday-"

"Shut your mouth, Fred Weasley! I thought you promised to never discuss that incident ever again!"

Fred chuckled. "I may have promised not to discuss it, but I can reminisce fondly about it, can't I?"

Hermione rolled her eyes before stepping into the fireplace whose black dust clung to her slippers. Reaching for the floo powder, she remembered she had something to give to Fred.

She reached into her dressing gowns' pocket and took out the small thank you card she had written last night. After shoving it into Fred's hand, she flooed away, but not before she saw his lips pull upwards into a grin.

* * *

Once she stepped out of her own fireplace, Hermione proceeded into her bedroom. Today was a day for research, so she didn't have to go to the shop. The temptation to crawl back into bed was strong. But she felt too awake, so she instead decided to take a shower.

As the hot water streamed down her back, Hermione wondered about Luna Lovegood helping her and the twins out for the second time in two days. Both times had involved one George Weasley, a realization that led Hermione to wonder if the potion had any hand in it. But then again when they had first called on her George hadn't yet drunken the potion. _Still_, Hermione thought,_ it's a situation worth following._ _Besides, if Luna is George's fated love, then I'll have won that bet with Fred. _

Putting on her clothes, Hermione found her thoughts straying to how Fred might have been feeling about George's relationship with Angelina. Fred and Angelina had dated before, on and off throughout Hogwarts and for a year afterwards, she knew, but Hermione never was able to determine whether their relationship had been serious or casual. _Bah_, Hermione thought as she stuck her foot into a sock, _why am I so concerned anyway?_ _Stop thinking about this nonsense, Hermione!_

Padding into her kitchen, standing in front of her opened refrigerator, Hermione faced a dilemma. With so many new food stuffs in her possession, she could not figure out what she wanted for breakfast. She had narrowed her choices down to Belgian waffles or French toast when she a noticed a green light flash in her living room. A second later, a giddy Ginny Weasley walked in.

"Hermione!" she shouted.

"Ginny! Good morning!" Hermione said, surprised at her friend's sudden appearance. "What's going on?"

"You won't believe what happened last night!" Ginny bounced on the balls of her feet, waving her hands excitedly in front of her, and saying "Merlin, Merlin" over and over again. Hermione eyed her anxiously.

"What' happened?"

"Dean proposed! He proposed!"

Hermione opened her mouth in shock before pulling her friend into a hug.

"Merlin, that's wonderful! When? Where? How?"

As Hermione prepared her waffles, Ginny told her how Dean had returned late last night from his reporters' conference in Spain and took her to their favorite spot, a cliff overlooking a gorgeous beach, for a late night meal. After they ate, Dean set dozens of enchanted lanterns into the sky that arranged themselves into a question mark. Dean had a ring in his hands when Ginny turned around to face him.

"It was perfect, Hermione!" Ginny finished with a sigh. "Of course, I said _yes!_"

Hermione smiled. "I'm really happy for you Ginny! It sounds so wonderful. I wish I were there to have seen it!"

Ginny hugged her friend again. "I wish everyone had been there to see it, but since they weren't, I guess I'll have to go tell them about it myself."

"You told me before you told your mum?"

Ginny laughed. "Yes! You are the first person I'm telling this news to! Oh, and by the way, would you be my maid of honor? Please?"

"Merlin! I…of course I will!"

After several more feminine squeals of happiness Hermione hoped her neighbors hadn't heard, grinning she watched Ginny floo to the Burrow. Walking back into her kitchen and summoning a plate and a glass before her, Hermione let out a small, rueful sigh. Yes, she was happy for Ginny, but Hermione had always assumed she and Ron would be married first, _then_ Ginny and Harry, but obviously that hadn't worked out for either couple.

She and Ron had had their fun, but at the end of the day, the differences in their interests and aspirations proved to be too large of a canyon between them. Hermione had opted to continue her NEWT level education at Hogwarts after the war; Ron pursued his professional Quidditch playing dreams. The long distance relationship didn't work well for either of them, so they split on friendly terms right before Hermione's graduation.

However, on rare occasions, Hermione still wondered whether breaking up with Ron had been the best decision. Ron was stable, constant, and solid. They might have made it if they had put more energy into their relationship. But they hadn't, so now Ginny was getting married before her…

_Shut it, _Hermione told herself, _I'm twenty years old. I can't afford to entertain these teenaged fantasies about marriage anymore._

* * *

Hermione spent the rest of her day researching new products for the twins. It was a liberating business that involved her apparating to wild fields and old book shops all over Britain, hunting down rare ingredients and recipes that might inspire the creation of new money spinners. Some days, her research entailed scoping out Weasley Wizards' Wheezes primary competitor, Gorgen's Gags, a chain of shops that had sprung up in the months after the end of the war.

Doing all this for Fred and George was, of course, a far cry from what everyone had expected of Hermione after graduation.

About three-fourths of the way into her seventh year at Hogwarts, Hermione had been offered a position as an Unspeakable at the Ministry of Magic. The job was guaranteed to her once she graduated, so long as she pledged herself to being an Unspeakable for the rest of her life. After graduating with the highest marks in her NEWTs, Hermione was certain she wanted to take up the Ministry's offer, but after three months of intense training at the Department of Mysteries, she started having recurring nightmares of being stuck in the Death Chamber for days on end, with nothing but the whispers coming from behind the veil as company. Whenever she dreamed of this, she'd awake in a cold sweat, shaking in fear. Knowing these dreams probably were not good omens, Hermione resigned a month before her official swearing in.

Those who knew her were understandably confused at her decision to quit, because they all believed Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of her age, would have made a brilliant Unspeakable. But when they asked the witch about it, she told them, "It's not really what I want to do." Hermione only told Harry and Ron what really turned her off from the job, and they both agreed not pursuing the position was probably best for her mental health.

"What are you going to do then?" Harry had asked her at the Burrow one August evening.

Before she could come up with an answer, the Weasley twins, who had been stealthily sneaking glances at the talented brunette, swooped into the conversation.

Fred seated himself on the couch to Hermione's right and cleared his throat. "Miss Granger," he said.

"Enchanting, wonderful, marvelous, Hermione!" George added, hopping onto the seat to Hermione's left.

"We—George and I—were hoping you would spare us a few moments out of your evening to listen to a proposition we have for you."

"Yes, Hermione. Will you spare us, your doting admirers, a minute or two?"

Hermione hesitated for a good long second, trying to decipher whether they were pranking her, but eventually shrugged in assent. "Alright, what's got your knickers in a twist?"

"George and I propose you come work for us," Fred said with a smile.

Hermione blinked in surprise. _What? They want want me to _work_ for _them_?_ "You want me to _work_ for _you_?" she asked.

"Yes," George answered quickly. "We realize you are in need of a job, and we are in need of a business partner."

"And we can't just hire anyone," added Fred. "He or she must be extremely competent, preferably _very_ intelligent and well-spoken, as well as somebody we could trust with our lives…and wallets." Hermione scoffed.

"And no matter how much we thought about whom we wanted to hire, our thoughts just kept returning to you, 'Mione."

Hermione crossed her arms and looked back and forth between each twin with her eyebrows raised. _What were they playing at?_ True, she needed a job, but the Ministry, despite her turning down a position at the Department of Mysteries, still inundated her with offers at other departments-high level jobs that paid well. But the thought of not being in an office all day was nice. Plus, she wouldn't be working at the Ministry whose narrow corridors still made her jittery. But was giving up a hefty salary to be a shop girl worth it? _Probably not._

"You're going to have to convince me to work for you," she told them after a few seconds of thought. "Because I don't know how satisfying my life would be as a shop girl."

"Ah, but that's the thing, Hermione. You would _not_ be just a shop girl."

"Aye, didn't you hear what we said? We want you to be our business partner."

_Business partner?_ Now that was a different matter altogether. "And what exactly would I be doing as a business partner, Fred?"

"Lots of things. Fun, exciting things. You see, being in business exposes you to all the action, where all the latest and greatest innovations are happening. You will not believe how many new, magical designs George and I have encountered these last few years alone."

"Tons of things you could not even dream of," George added. "Granted, most are still in the testing stage-"

"But are expected to become huge when refined and released to the public," Fred continued. "_Furthermore,_ if you come work for us, we will send you to places like Germany, to learn their latest discoveries in transfiguration. Or to America to check out their latest breakthroughs in defensive magic. Or even to Egypt, to research at the ancient Library at Alexandria…"

Hermione sat up straight at the mention of the library. "But I thought it was destroyed in 391!"

"Not the magical branch," George said. "Trust us. We've seen it."

"Oh." Hermione's head whirled at the possibility of visiting the largest and most significant library in the history of mankind for work.

Fred and George smirked at each other, knowing the brainy witch was hooked. All they had to do now was reel her in.

But the rational side of Hermione hadn't flown out the window yet. She realized she didn't know the first thing about business.

"But you won't be doing much of the technical business stuff anyway," George said.

"I'm going to be a _business partner_, aren't I? Don't you think I should learn at least the basics?"

"And you can't learn the basics from us? You have to have the textbook formula, don't you?" Fred asked.

"No! I just want to learn the economic theories, the strategies that have proven to work effectively-"

Fred raised a hand. "Okay, fine! How about we send you to the Wharton School of Business in Pennsylvania to learn the basics? Sound good?"

Hermione's jaw dropped. The Wharton School of Business at the University of Pennsylvania in the U.S. Was one of the best business schools in the world. As a child she had so admired a cousin of hers who had graduated from Wharton and started a computer company. He was now a multi-millionaire.

"But," Hermione's reasonable side answered, "surely the Muggle world of business differs from the that of the magical world. And what about the cost? Not to mention, I need to apply in order to get in."

"You'll take a condensed semester-long course, at the Wharton Magical Business Institute," George answered. "And don't worry a thing about the application and recommendations and whatnot. We've already sorted that all for you." He winked at Fred, knowing there was no way Hermione could say no now.

"Are you so desperate to have me?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Fred replied coolly.

"Well, then…" Hermione looked back and forth between the twins. "I'll think about it," she told them with a smirk. Harry, who had been pushed to the edge of the couch by the two Weasleys, laughed at Fred and George's simultaneous groans of exasperation.

A week later, after considering and rejecting the offers the Ministry had extended to her, Hermione agreed she would work for the twins. They in turn surprised her with a detailed, written contract. "We know how much you love to read," Fred had said when he laid the contract in front of her. "So here are a lot of words for you to peruse."

After a careful read through (or two or three), Hermione found that the terms described by the twins were more than favorable, and having signed the contract, she arrived in Philadelphia in September to start the fall term. At Wharton she learned a load of business strategies and schemes that the Weasley twins later incorporated into their transactions.

The Weasleys had made made good on their word to send Hermione on trips to other countries. A week after her term at Wharton ended, they sent her to Egypt to research rare incantations and potions' recipes. Hermione had found an enormous old book at a stall at an open air market, and after much haggling she brought the book back to England. It was in this book, _Potio Potens_, that George found the recipe for the Fate potion.

Recalling all of this as she took a break from reading _Cavalier's Craziest Cracks _by Devyn Dyrk, Hermione felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards Fred and George. If she had any other job she could not be doing what she was doing now: sipping a glass of butterbeer in a little pub in Scotland. No, she probably would be sitting in a cramped office illuminated by artificial lights, pulling her hair out at one matter or another. Not that she didn't do any hair-pulling while working at WWW; she just had two other brilliant wizards to help her solve her problems.


End file.
